Harry Potter and the Metamorph
by hermyd
Summary: Harry decided that the only way he can win this war with his sanity intact is to train his own way without interference. But then he discovers an ability that he needs help with and only one person can provide that-Tonks. They bring the fight to the DEs in their own way so that the war will finally end.
1. Prologue and a Slight Revision

Disclaimer: Sadly, it is still not mine. You know the drill.

* * *

April 11, 1981

Lily Potter sat encircled in the arms of her husband, both of them staring down at their baby son as he played before the fire. It had come as no surprise to them that their son was extremely talented. Both James and Lily had displayed their first accidental magic before they turned two. But Harry, he was barely a month old. They had gotten used to this in their little home, and were inordinately proud of their son. However, neither of them was expecting something like this. When he first displayed the skill Lily had spent nearly an hour frantically casting detection charms on her infant son to determine if anything was wrong with him.

"Do you know where he gets it from?" Lily whispered. She had never even heard of the talent until James recognised what Harry was doing.

"No. I know Sirius' great aunt was one, but that's the only one I've ever heard of." James was equally as quiet, still in shock from discovering that his son was more powerful than they had expected.

"Your grandmother was a Black, wasn't she?" She was hoping there was a reasonable explanation, as that was easier to stomach than it simply appearing out of the blue. Pun not intended; it was still too new for puns and sarcasm.

"Yes. I suppose it could have come from her blood." They both breathed a highly relieved breath at having stumbled onto a reasonable explanation.

"How will we control it?" They both tensed again. Knowing where it came from was not much of a relief when they had no idea how to help their son deal with this.

James shrugged. "I don't know. I think that will be up to him." Neither of them were exactly happy with that answer, despite its probable truth.

"Should we tell anyone? Maybe Professor Dumbledore will know something." Her voice was strained. Lily never had liked to not have all the answers.

James was quiet for several minutes. "No, I don't think we should let it get out. It might make _Him_ even more interested in Harry, and if the worst happens, this might give Harry a chance of getting away. We'll keep it to ourselves." Stumbling along blindly as they dealt with this was much better than having it leaked to the other side.

Harry's happy giggling drew their attention back to him. He was watching in awe as the model Quidditch players flew around their little Pitch, completely oblivious to the worry his parents were expressing over him. He had always been such a happy baby.

Lily sighed happily, allowing her worries to recede for the time being. "I love the blue. It reminds me that he's still a happy child, untouched by the world."

James smiled and pulled his wife closer. He only hoped they all survived long enough to witness what his son could really do with his gift. He had such high expectations for his son from the moment Lily had told him she was expecting. And then it had all come crashing down with Dumbledore's little announcement. He hadn't truly known the meaning of the word fear until that moment. The knowledge that his precious son was a target for the worst Dark Lord in centuries and there was little he could do to keep him safe had caused his entire world to tilt dangerously and nearly come crashing down. Harry's entire life, even if they were able to keep him hidden, would be marked by Voldemort's unrelenting attention. He could not have a normal, happy childhood and would have to be prepared at an early age to fight for his life.

James did not want this for his son, but could not see any way around it.

* * *

October 31, 1981

Voldemort sneered down at the woman in front of him. Severus had begged for her for himself, but he had no intention of following through with his word. He would instead use Severus' grief to further his cause. Once he took care of the whelp, of course.

He chuckled as the women fell to his curse. In his glee, he did not notice the brief light that came from the crib, or the brief flash of red.

He turned slowly towards the babe that was prophesied to be his downfall. He scoffed at the notion; he was immortal, and this babe would ensure that. Slowly he lifted his arm and brought his wand to bear.

* * *

August 17, 1982

An enraged Vernon Dursley threw the door open and tossed his nephew, whom he had been dragging along by the arm, into the small cupboard. The small child, barely two years old, curled into a tight ball on the floor in an effort to protect himself, and fervently hoped that his uncle was done hitting him. He didn't know why Uncle was so mad, he hadn't done anything. Aunt had given him a bit of cake for dessert and he had been so happy—the first time he could remember being happy in this strange house—when suddenly Uncle had started to hit him.

"You listen here, you little freak," Vernon spat. "The next time you do something like that, I don't care what anyone will say. I'll toss you into the ocean and leave you for dead."

Harry quietly cried himself to sleep, still confused. It would be three days before he would be let out of his prison.

* * *

June 24, 1996

Hermione Granger watched carefully as her best friend wandered out by the lake, taking his daily walk. He had started holing himself up in the Room of Requirement most of the day, doing goodness knows what, but every afternoon he could be found aimlessly wandering the grounds. She had no idea what he had been up to. Since they had returned from that horrible night at the Ministry, Harry had barely spoken to her at all. In fact, he seemed to have an aversion to being in anyone's company.

Well, that wasn't quite true, she had to admit. For walking by his side, as she had been for the past several days every time he took a walk, was Ginny Weasley. Hermione didn't know what to make of that new development. She was quite certain that Harry and Ginny would be good together, but she wasn't very confident this was the right time for anything of that nature to develop. Ginny, despite what she had been through in her young life, was still a teenage girl. She may be able to understand Harry's connection to V... V... Voldemort, but Hermione wasn't sure if the girl was mature enough to handle Harry and what Hermione knew he would have to face in his life. At least, not yet. She didn't think anyone was maturing enough to handle it, even her. She was worried about Harry making it through himself.

Hermione knew that Harry needed someone in his corner, and she could see that he was hoping Ginny would fill that position. Hermione hoped that Ginny would live up to his expectations. But that was a lot to ask of a fourteen year-old girl. Hermione desperately hoped they would make it, but a small part of her worried about what would happen to Harry if Ginny wasn't able to handle it.

She didn't know if he would recover. It might be too much for him on top of everything else he had gone through in the last few years.

* * *

Harry Potter got off the train at King's Cross, and smiled at the Weasleys who were there to welcome him and his friends. He immediately headed over towards Fred and George, who were wearing the most hideous jackets he had ever seen. They grinned when they spotted him.

"Harry!"

"Our dearest..."

"...And best..."

"...Benefactor!"

"What can we..."

"...Do for you?" They wore matching expressions of intrigue on their face.

He chuckled slightly. "Do you think you guys could do a bit of magic for me before I go home? I don't want to get in trouble."

"Sure, Harry." The one on the left responded.

"Whatever you need." This time it came from the right.

"Thanks. I want a time-released shrinking charm on my trunk. Maybe one that will last for about, oh, five hours? That way I can make sure Uncle Vernon doesn't take it away from me when I get home." He smiled innocently at them. He would have done this himself before leaving the castle, but he hadn't been able to figure out the timed release.

The twins gave identical smiles of mischief, and Harry was quite sure they didn't believe him, but he knew they would do it anyways. One reached out immediately and tapped the top of Harry's trunk, which he immediately pocketed, and the other pulled out a small box and passed it over.

"What's this?" Harry asked.

"Oh, just a little something to make your summer go by easier. It's shrinking charm should wear off in about 12 hours, as well."

Harry grinned. "Thanks, guys."

With one final glance to where the rest of the Weasleys were congregating, and a lingering gaze at the youngest of them, he walked over to where the Dursleys were standing, getting some kind of talking to by several Order members. Harry rolled his eyes. He appreciated the gesture, but did they really think that _talking_ to Uncle Vernon would make him a new man? Not bloody likely. His uncle was a bully, and bullies only understood force superior to their own. That was a lesson he had learned well in his childhood. But he wasn't too worried; he had plans of his own. Plans that, in his opinion, were long overdue. He just hoped his friends understood why he had to do this.

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to where Ginny was standing quietly on the platform. He smiled shyly at her. "I hope you have a really good summer, Ginny. I wish we could spend it together."

She beamed at him. "I'll miss you, too. But we'll write and then maybe Dumbledore will let you come for a visit in August."

He smiled to hide his nerves. "Yeah, maybe. I'll see you in September, though." He gave her a quick yet awkward hug, and hoped fervently that he would be able to do so again after she found out his plans.

After bidding a quick goodbye to the rest of his friends and the Order, Harry dutifully followed the Dursleys out to their car. He had to force himself to not look back at his friends again, wondering if he would ever see them again. He didn't say a word until they were all piled in and Uncle Vernon was about to start it.

"Uncle Vernon?"

"Yes, boy?" The man gritted out. Harry had no doubt that his uncle would be screaming at him for having the gall to ask a question if he weren't worried that some of the _freaks_ might still be hanging around and watching them. It was the reason that he was asking now, before they lost sight of the station.

"I've decided that I would rather live on my own from now on, if you don't mind." All three Dursleys turned to him with shocked expressions. "I've made some arrangements. If it's not too much trouble, could you drop me off at this address? And then you'll be free of me."

He handed Vernon a small scrap of paper. "That's not too far from here," the man noted gruffly.

"No. I'm sorry you had to come all the way here to pick me up, but Professor Dumbledore would never have just let me run away. This was the only way I could think of to do so." He said this with a careful tone, hoping not to raise his uncle's ire.

"And if we take you to this place, we'll never see you again?" Harry thought it was the calmest the man had ever been when speaking to him. The vein in the man's forehead that usually throbbed angrily wasn't even visible. It was a little unnerving, actually. Harry had never seen his uncle so calm when speaking with his hated nephew.

"Correct. The blood wards that were tied to me will no longer work on your home, but I've made arrangements for other protections to be put in place. They should be there by the time you get home today, and they should be enough to keep you safe. I will continue to send regular letters to my friends for the entire summer, so that no one will come looking for me, but I won't be back."

"Well," Vernon said. "Good riddance. Alright, boy, I'll drop you off. But I never want to hear from you again."

"Yes, sir."

Twenty minutes later, Harry Potter, with all his earthly possessions in his pockets and his owl in a cage by his side, watched with great glee as the Dursleys drove out of his life. With a small smile, he turned and entered the building behind him. They were expecting him.

* * *

_July 15, 1996_

_Dear Ginny, _

_Life is pretty normal and boring here at the Dursleys'. But I haven't been attacked by Dementors yet, so I really shouldn't complain. I'm glad to hear that the healers were able to help with the scarring on Ron's arm. Despite his acting like he would always like a scar of his own, I really wouldn't wish it on him. I can't believe that Fred and George thought they could catch you with such an amateur prank. Don't they realise that you are just as devious as them? Your revenge was hilarious, though. I had to laugh into my pillow so Uncle Vernon wouldn't tear into my hide. _

_Thank you for writing to me; your letters always make my day and remind me that I do have a reason to get through this. I'm working as hard as I can without being able to use magic. I figure it wouldn't hurt to get in better shape before the next time I have to fight Tom's snivelling servants. I'm also trying to work on my Occlumency. I was able to order a book on it; boy, did Snape ever mess me up. His methods caused more harm than good, for me at least. Can't say I'm really surprised. He's always been a git._

_Anyways, I can't wait to see you again, even if I don't know when I'll get the chance. I'm really looking forward to that date you promised me to Hogsmeade. Gives me something happy to think on. I hope you and your family are doing well._

_Always,_

_Harry_

* * *

_August 13, 1996_

_Dear Ginny, _

_I'm glad to hear that you enjoyed your birthday. I wish I could have been there for it, but you know I was thinking about you. _

_Don't worry too much about me. I expected that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let me leave Privet Drive this summer and so I made some plans ahead of time. Really, this summer hasn't been too bad. I am sorry about not getting to spend any time with you, though. You are sure better to look at than my cousin Dudley, that's for sure. I know you are concerned, but I can handle myself just fine._

_I'm continuing in my studies. Because what else is there to do here, really? I've been working ahead in my school books, too. I figure I'll spare Hermione the usual start-of-term lecture about not being prepared. I even practice the wand movements, though not with a real wand, of course. I don't want to risk getting another note from the Ministry. I'm not sure if they like me enough now not to put me on trial again, and would rather not risk it._

_I've been able to get out of the house quite a bit. I made a deal with Dumbledore at the end of term: he would stop having people follow me around if I promised to be careful and wear an emergency portkey. That means I'm free to roam around here a bit, and I'm not constantly being watched. I hate being watched, and so this arrangement is much better. It makes me feel a little less like an animal on display at the zoo. _

_Ginny, there's something I really wish I could tell you, but I can't. And I'm afraid you are going to be really mad at me when you find out. I'll let you know as soon as I can, when it is safe to, at least. Please, Ginny, trust me._

_Always,_

_Harry_

* * *

_Sept 1, 1996_

_Dear Ginny, _

_I'm sure it didn't escape your notice that I failed to board the train today. I'm sure this caused quite a stir among Fawkes' fan club. I don't really mean to be difficult, but this was something I felt I had to do. All of my life, I have been forced to do what everyone but me wanted. All of my life, I have been miserable as I dreamed about the day when I could finally make my own decisions. It wasn't until the end of last term that I finally learned why everyone felt the need to butt into my life. Suffice it to say I didn't think much of their reasons._

_Well, I've finally had enough. I know that, legally, I need to be seventeen to make this decision, which is why no one will see me until that time. I will be back, Ginny. I, better than anyone, know there is still a fight to come, and I intend to win. But I can't do that if I can't be myself. _

_I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you the truth, but I needed the last two months to make sure I couldn't be found, and you know that they would have come looking for me immediately. _

_I'll still keep in touch, and hope to hear from you often. At least until I can be there back by your side. I still want that date._

_Trust me, Ginny._

_Always,_

_Harry_

* * *

September 1, 1996

Dumbledore looked around at the people crammed into his office. Most of the Order was here, and even the young Weasleys along with Ms Granger. They all looked grave and a few were anxiously wringing their hands. Molly was full out crying in a corner; there was no calming her.

"Has anyone actually seen Harry since he left the train station in June?" Now it made sense why the lad had insisted on no guards at Privet Drive. He had used Dumbledore's guilt over withholding the prophecy to wring the concession out of him, allowing him to make his escape.

"No. He's been writing letters to Ron and Ginny all summer and always said he was at the Dursleys, but we haven't seen him." Mrs Weasley answered through her tears.

"Um," Ginny hesitated before setting her shoulders and speaking up. "His last letter to me mentioned that there was something he really wanted to tell me but couldn't and that he hoped I would understand." Her eyes flashed. "Well, of course I wouldn't understand! He ran away like a coward! I never thought Harry could be that selfish and he had better hope that I don't find him because he isn't going to like my reaction!"

Mrs Weasley placed a comforting hand on her daughters shoulder. She hoped they found Harry soon, or it looked like there would never be a chance for them to make this relationship work. And she very much wanted this relationship to work.

* * *

_Sept 10, 1996_

_Ginny, _

_As you wish._

_Harry_

* * *

A/N: Story is fairly well done by now. Just doing some editing, so the chapter should be posted regularly. Parts of it will get a bit mature, as I don't see how you can do this pairing without that. Enjoy.


	2. And So It Begins

Disclaimer: Sadly, the world of Harry Potter is not mine.

* * *

_Ten and a half months later_

Harry Lewis sat idly outside a small Starbucks on the corner of Lexington and 78th. He loved New York. It was possible to be totally anonymous here, as nobody cared much about anyone besides themselves. No one looked twice at him, and that suited him just fine. In addition, there was only a very small magical population here, as the wizards tended to not like to live in such close quarters with Muggles, and it was impossible not to live in close quarters in this city. And even if he did run into a witch or wizard, it's not like they would be expecting him to be here. He had also done his best to look nothing like himself. This had been greatly helped by the fact that he now owned a wardrobe that both fit and was stylish, in an understated manner. His hair had been died light brown and he'd also found a hat he was quite fond of wearing, and no one seemed to pay any attention to another young man walking around in a Yankee's cap. He hadn't had a single close call since he got here.

He had never felt freer.

He had been rather shocked to find out that Sirius had left him some rather significant holdings in the Muggle world, in addition to a large vault in Gringotts and Number 12 Grimmauld Place. One of them, a rather large vacation home in southern California, had been rather easy to sell so that he could buy his condo on Fifth Avenue. It was just a few blocks from here, overlooking Central Park. He had gone completely Muggle, after having new identification documents made up, so that he would be harder to track, but that wasn't going to last much longer. In three days, he turned seventeen and would finally be able to return to the Wizarding world, if he wished, without worrying about the many meddlers who wished to control his life. He found it hilarious that he had been able to hide himself better than they ever had, and he didn't use a stitch of magic beyond the creation of his new documents.

Of course, he hadn't been idle this whole time. He had found an excellent Martial Arts studio relatively close by and spent countless hours each week there. He was currently a _yodan_, a fourth degree black belt. His achievement of this so quickly had set records across the country, and he had participated in numerous competitions these last few months. He had also spent the last month or two learning Capoeira, and had grown to quite enjoy the South American style of fighting and dance. It was while he was learning this that he had run into a rather intimidating little man who was one of the go-to men for the Five Families. His expertise with knives was rather... daunting. But the man had taken a liking to Harry for some reason, and taken him under his wing for several weeks. The result was the rather large collection of blades currently strapped to Harry's body, and the skill with which he could use them.

Mindful of the need to hide himself, Harry had only taken two short trips into the New York state version of Diagon Alley—which oddly enough was located in a town called Breakabeen. While there he had bought a copy of every book that looked even remotely useful, and these had occupied his off hours. The meditation encouraged by his sensei had been a great start to Occlumency, and, while he hadn't been able to test his skills very much, Harry was fairly confident in his abilities now. At least, Voldemort had not been able to send him as much as a twinge of pain in months, despite what he was sure was considerable effort, he knew everyone was still looking for him. So Harry had a vast store of knowledge that he was merely waiting to try out, as soon as he could safely use magic again. He had even practiced the wand movements with a stick, and worked drills to increase his speed and accuracy. Muggle laser tag had been invaluable in both efforts.

There was only one problem that had come up in his time here that he hadn't found an answer for. And though he had read every book he could find on the subject, he was no closer to being able to control it than he was when he first found out. Every single book said that the subject was only ever learned from a mentor, and that it was impossible to describe the way to control it to a non-practitioner. It even went so far as to caution emerging practitioners from attempting to learn on their own as the dangers involved were extremely high.

It had been very frustrating for Harry. He didn't want to have to trust anyone with this information, and he didn't like relying on someone else for help. It had been longer than he could remember since someone he trusted actually came through for him. And the last time he had put his trust in someone, the last time someone had let him down, had nearly destroyed him...

* * *

_Flashback: September 10, 1996_

_ Harry Lewis was staring into the bar, debating about whether he should go in. It was a rather clever spell that his contact had used on his new id card; the card showed Harry to be whatever age he wished at the particular moment. So Harry knew he would be served without trouble, but he was still wary of allowing himself to lose such control. Aside from the dangers in doing so, he simply didn't like to not be in complete control of his own person, a result of have no control for much of his childhood. He suspected it was this stubbornness that helped him resist the Imperius Curse, and the lesson had been driven home with Sirius' death because he had been unable to control his own mind. And yet, right now he didn't want to be inside his own head._

_ The letter that was currently burning a hole in his pocket drove him further into the dark room. Some things could only be dealt with at the bottom of a bottle. He made his way to the bar and glared at the bartender._

_ "Give me a glass of the strongest thing you have. Actually, give me the whole bottle."_

* * *

_ He woke up, groggy and confused, in a dank bathroom that smelled awful. Pulling himself up, with a great amount of effort, he took a look in the mirror to assess how bad he looked and shouted in shock at what he saw._

_ His hair was a vivid green. _

_ Unfortunately, the movement caused by his shock didn't sit well with his stomach, and he had to dive quickly for the toilet. He spent several minutes being violently ill once more and cursing the alcohol he had drunk and the letter that had driven him to drink it in the first place. He also vowed to never allow someone to hurt him enough where he reached this point again. It wasn't worth the pain, or the hangover._

_When he pulled himself up once more he was in for another surprise. This time, his hair was a shade of brown strongly resembling his favourite dish of curry at the Indian restaurant around the corner._

_ He sank to the floor, deciding he would have to figure this out later. After his head stopped pounding, that is. After all, maybe it was all in his head. He had drunk a rather large amount of alcohol the night before._

* * *

Once Harry had gotten over the hangover and his appearance had returned to normal, it didn't take him long to figure out what was most likely happening. He only wondered why it had never happened before. After all, Tonks had been changing as a small child, she had once told him. (Then again, he knew that Tonks had been raised with the knowledge that she was a metamorph, whereas Harry hadn't even known about magic. He wondered if that had anything to do with it.) He had come to the conclusion that maybe he simply wasn't as powerful a metamorph as she was. Of course, he had no way of verifying this.

The metamorph gene appeared to be extremely rare; he had only been able to find mention of it in a handful of books. There were no reference books entirely devoted to the craft. And nothing he had been able to find had helped him at all. The only time he had noticed a change was that night he had gotten completely smashed. Although, he was aware of the fact that his hair seemed to have a mind of its own. It never grew, and he couldn't seem to get it to change its style. Even the strongest Muggle hair gels wouldn't hold for more than five minutes. It had completely baffled the hair stylist he had gone to upon first arriving in New York, and nearly given the rather... eccentric man a coronary. The man still called every couple of months, asking Harry to come down to try a new method of hair control. None of them had ever worked.

No, it seemed that the only way to learn how to morph, if it didn't come naturally, was to be taught. And, as Harry only knew one metamorph, and he had no desire to announce himself to Dumbledore and his Order, he needed to find someone else to help him.

There weren't a lot of magic users in New York City, he knew. The dense population of Muggles didn't lend itself well to magic users; there were just too many people that could see something. But there were magic users in the States. He wondered if he could get them to help him, if being the Boy-Who-Lived would open doors here as it might have in Britain. While he was extremely reluctant to do it, he realised that he really needed to learn this new skill. He had it for a reason, and he knew how useful it could be. Of course, he also recognised some of the downsides. He had spent quite a bit of time thinking about what this would mean for him, and how he would deal with it, assuming he ever mastered the skill.

It had been a rather interesting young girl who he had met while training that had taught him the most important truth. She was a Muggle, but she showed up with a different hair colour every couple of weeks, and seemed to have dedicated her life to finding new places to pierce her body, or new images to get marked on her skin. Harry had been shocked when he first met her, but she just smirked at him and asked if he had a problem. When Harry furiously shook his head, she had given a nod. "Good," she replied. "Because this is me, whether you like it or not. If you can't deal with that, then you don't deserve to be my friend." Harry had thought about those words quite a bit, and he had grown to agree with her. If he was a metamorph, then he was a metamorph. Nothing could change that, and so anyone he associated with would simply have to accept it.

As he watched the hurried walkers that rushed past and the insane traffic on the street in front of him, Harry decided that he would go to the United States Department of Magical Affairs and ask about getting help. But first, he needed to see if he could actually perform any of the spells he had spent the last year meticulously learning the theory behind.

He would never again walk into a situation unprepared if he could help it.

* * *

_Flashback: July 7, 1996_

_ Harry smiled as he stepped out onto the street, nodding at the doorman. It had taken him days to get used to the fact that no one seemed to pay any attention to him here. He was just another kid, and an uninteresting one at that. The relief this brought was wonderful. But it had also made him wonder. _

_ From what he knew, only Hagrid and Sirius had been to Godric's Hollow the night his parents died, and no one knew for sure what had happened there. So how was it that the entire Wizarding world knew that he had somehow defeated Voldemort? How was it that everyone knew about his scar? And how was it that as he grew up, everyone seemed to know what he looked like? The only conclusion he could come to was that someone wanted everyone to recognise him. This seemed remarkably stupid. If Dumbledore really wanted to protect him, he should have let everyone think it was someone else, or that Harry was blond, or anything other than the truth. At least until he had grown up enough to protect himself. Then there would have been no need for the Order to follow him around, there would have been no curious stares wherever he went, and Harry could have gone through school without any extra attention. Only Voldemort would have known any differently, and any Death Eaters he told wouldn't have been able to leak that information without revealing their hand. _

_ Harry shook his head. He really needed to stop thinking about the conspiracy to make him miserable, if there even was one; it was possible everything was just a horrible coincidence. It didn't do any good to think about, and he was free of them all now. He snickered as he imagined the various reactions when they found out that he had disappeared. He wished he could be there to see it. If he had been thinking more clearly, he would have set up some way to do so, but he had long ago realised that the days following Sirius' death were mostly spent in a fog of anger, depression, and fatalistic despair. _

_ He wandered down the street, following the directions he had scribbled on a piece of paper, until he came to a dreary looking building with a black and white sign. _Martial Arts_ was all it said, but he had been told it was the best in the city. It was one of the reasons he had chosen his home, as he wanted to be close. Taking a deep breath, he entered the small front room and smiled at the wizened old woman behind the counter._

_ "Hello," he greeted quietly._

_ "How I help you?" She asked in a heavily accented voice._

_ "I want to learn, as much as I can."_

_ A smile came across her face. "We see how right you are." And she waved him into the back._

* * *

"You claim to be a metamorph, Mr Potter? I have a hard time believing that you would have been able to keep this quiet. You have led a rather... ah, heavily spotlighted life until the last year."

Harry met the man's look head on. "Yes, sir. I was unaware of the ability myself for many years. Though I have had hints, if I had been paying attention. No, it wasn't until this last year and a rather... interesting evening that I was displaying obvious signs." Harry shrugged. "But, I have a theory for this. Either I am not a very strong metamorph, or my magic masked it due to my rather strong desire to not display any talents setting me apart from the crowd. For most of my life I was punished for anything that made me different, and so I learned to simply not stand out from the crowd. In addition, I simply didn't know it was possible until two years ago, so I never really tried until recently."

The Ministry official chuckled. "If you had come to me a year ago, I would never have believed that you didn't like the attention. But you seem to have done a rather good job of hiding under our very noses, so I find myself inclined to believe you. I wouldn't have thought it was possible for the Boy-Who-Lived to live here for over a year without us even suspecting, but the evidence speaks for itself. Now, you are asking for our help in finding a trainer, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you aware that the only known full metamorph at the moment is Nymphadora Tonks? I believe you even know her."

Harry had trouble masking his disappointment. "Yes, I know her. Well enough to know she would happily murder you for uttering her first name. I was hoping to find someone less, shall we say, connected to certain individuals."

The official burst into laughter. "Ah, it isn't every day that I get to hear of Harry Potter's dislike of Albus Dumbledore. It's rather like Robin growing a sudden distaste for Batman, you understand."

Harry grinned. "Yes. But only if Batman had stolen Robin from his home, had him beaten and abused for ten years, put his life in danger simply to see what he would do, and lied to him his entire life." By the expression on the official's face, Harry rather thought the man was startled that he even recognised the reference. Of course, Harry also recognised that he was being rather harsh on the Headmaster. He doubted that the man really had it out for him, but it was hard to be objective when it is your life that is being messed with. In addition, there was little harm in playing on the sympathy of the man you were asking help from.

"Well, that certainly puts a different spin on things." The man eyed him carefully, assessing him. "There is a way around this issue."

Harry sat forward, eager. "Yes?"

"In similar such situations, it is common for individuals with rather special talents to receive training under their Ministry's Department of Mysteries. It is then customary for them to offer their own services if another ever appears. We could put in a request, through the regular channels, for Miss Tonks to come train a new metamorph. As we are rather distrusting of your Ministry at the moment, we would be well within our rights to require an Unbreakable Vow from her to protect your identity, skills, and person."

"Do you think she would do it? She is rather needed in England right now."

"Ah, but Miss Tonks owes us. You see, she herself was trained under an American metamorph when she was seven years old."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Oh." He considered this. It was tempting. "Can you place the request and get the Vow without telling her anything about me beforehand?"

"We will only inform her that you are male, your age, and that your talent is only recently discovered."

"Brilliant!"

"And Mr Potter?"

"Yes?"

"Do be careful. We are rather fond of you on this side of the pond as well, you know."

* * *

_Flashback: March 2, 1997_

_ Harry stood in front of the large mirror in his bedroom, taking in the man looking back at him. He looked nothing like he did a year ago. He was still a bit short for his age, and he definitely didn't have the body of a weight lifter, but it was evident in every move he made that he was powerful, and deadly. His Sensei had actually mentioned how surprising it was that Harry had so completely adapted to this new form of life. That was high praise from the small man. But the highest praise Harry had received was currently wrapped around his waist. Sensei had actually smiled proudly when presenting him with the black strip of cloth. _

_ With a satisfied sigh, Harry slowly changed his clothes, hanging them reverently in his closet and laying the belt carefully across his dresser. He had worked hard for it. Most days he spent a good four or five hours in the studio, working until the exhaustion forced him to stop. Then he would come home and read until he could no longer keep his eyes open. Only rarely did he allow himself a break. Usually he spent his days off exploring more of the city, or simply sitting in the park, watching the children play. _

_ They reminded him of exactly why he was doing this, and of the future he still hoped to find for himself someday. It was a powerful motivator. _

_ Deciding today would be spent on healing spells, he grabbed a book from the shelf and headed out to his balcony. He would read in the sun for a while._

* * *

"Absolutely not." He refused to lose such a valuable resource. Nymphadora's skills made her irreplaceable.

"Sir, I really don't have a choice."

He smiled indulgently. "Of course you do, Nymphadora, there is always a choice to do what is right over what is easy." His eyes twinkled merrily as he issued one of his favourite sayings. It really sounded so well; he was glad he had stolen it from that silly Muggle all those years ago. It's not like the man was important anyways... some silly man named Winston. Albus wondered what his mother had been thinking to give him such a name. He probably amounted to nothing, like most Muggles.

Her face remained stoic. "No, sir. I've already given my Vow."

"What?" The old man's expression was incredulous now. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"It was the only way they would let me leave the building without Obliviating me. And, really, it is my duty. As I was trained by someone, I will pass it along. I realise the timing is inconvenient, but think how useful another metamorph could be."

"But he is American. He would have no desire to come here to fight." He was getting desperate now. She honestly seemed to think she could leave him in the middle of a war?

"He might. If he becomes at all fond of his teacher."

Albus Dumbledore sighed. "I wish you had thought this through a bit more, my dear."

She met his twinkling blue eyes. "I did. And I'm leaving tomorrow."

Damn her! "Very well. Are you sure you won't be able to tell me anything about him?" He sent a tendril of Legilimency forward and was met by surprisingly strong walls and Nymphadora's frown.

"No, sir. As England is a bit... riled up at the moment, they demanded an Unbreakable Vow from me. I cannot betray my student in any way."

"Then good luck, my dear. Please let me know as soon as you think you might be able to come back. And do be careful."

"Yes, sir."

He watched her go with a heavy sadness falling onto his shoulders. The war was not going at all well, and it was only going to get worse now that Tonks was leaving. He wondered if Remus would hang around, now that both Tonks and Harry were gone. It hadn't escaped the Headmaster's notice that the Marauder was often watching the young Auror. Of course, nothing had come of this. She seemed to not even notice, as if her attention was always on something else. And, really, the man was sixteen years older than her. Any such relationship would be difficult, but the fact that Tonks was so young at heart and Remus so world weary would only make the disparity worse.

Albus wondered what else was going to go wrong. Harry had left and hadn't been heard from for nearly a year, the most talented member of the Order was leaving for an undisclosed amount of time, his Potion's Master had been increasingly left out of Voldemort's plans, and, if his sources were correct, those plans were centred on killing him before Voldemort made his bid for the country. And, even though he knew they were fighting an unbeatable foe, without Harry there to end the war, Albus had still been trying to win, but he had only found vague hints in his search for Tom's Horcruxes.

Albus wondered if maybe it wasn't time to devote all his efforts to this search and give up on finding Harry. Prophecies had been wrong before, after all.

* * *

Nymphadora Tonks had mixed feelings as she made her way to the Portkey Office at the Ministry. She was incredibly excited about the discovery of another metamorph, as she had often wished to have someone who truly understood her. And yet, the timing _was_ inconvenient. If it had been a child found, she would have asked for a delay before training started, but it wasn't. Another adult metamorph could be a huge asset, and she was hopeful that the training wouldn't take as long as it would with a child.

She was also curious. All she knew was that he was male, seventeen, and only recently discovered his abilities. She took this to mean he probably had very little potential, as she had been morphing uncontrollably since three days after she was born. And it was so strongly tied to her emotions originally, she couldn't imagine someone being a metamorph and not knowing it.

It was actually a relief to think he wouldn't be able to do much. Full body changes would have been... awkward to teach. Usually, metamorphs are taught young, before nudity becomes an issue. But she would be working with a seventeen-year-old male. She had little hope for his ability to control himself. And worse, he was close enough to her age that she was worried about her own reactions. It really would be so much better if they never had to deal with it; she could teach him the basic changes without any awkwardness, and hopefully that would be the end of it.

Due to the fact that she had been morphing her entire life, she really didn't remember a time when she _didn't_ know what she was. Her mother had raised her to understand her morphing, and accept herself as she was. She was incredibly grateful for this. She could only imagine if she had learned what she was as a teenager. She didn't know if her self-confidence could have taken the hit. As it was, her teenage years had been incredibly hard. Honestly, her adult years hadn't been much easier, she had just gotten better at hiding its effect on her.

Her training had been complete before she ever went to Hogwarts, and her natural excitement meant that she never tried to hide what she was. The first few years at school this just meant that she got odd looks and people calling her a freak. She didn't have many friends at school. She had gotten along okay with Charlie Weasley originally, but even he had a hard time once puberty set in. Because then it suddenly dawned on every boy in the castle that she could make herself look like anything they wanted.

At first, she had enjoyed the attention. During her fourth year, she had dated anyone that asked, and made a bit of a fool of herself. It had taken a year for her to realise that every single one of them didn't want to date _her_. They wanted to date a Veela, or a supermodel, or the Ravenclaw prefect that wouldn't even look at them.

She had come home after her fourth year completely destroyed. She had even asked her mom to find a way to bind her ability. But Andromeda Tonks was no pushover, and she had slowly and calmly restored Tonks' faith in herself. Tonks realised that she simply needed to find the right man, instead of dating them all.

So fifth year started and she refused every offer.

Of course, that was when the girls started in on her. They didn't like that she was getting so much attention, even if she never went with the guys who offered. They didn't like that she could always be prettier than them, even if she didn't often take those forms. And teenage girls are some of the cruellest creatures on the planet. She had been forced to learn how to ward her bed, as what started out as pranks quickly turned into malicious harassment. She lost any interest in trying to find friends, and spent all of her time working hard on her school work. She would show them all, and be the best there was.

And, indeed, she was one of only a handful of people admitted into Auror training in the last ten years. But even then the harassment didn't stop. She had thought that once she got out of school she could try dating again. She figured older and more mature men were the way to go. And for a while she let them have their way with her. Until they started insisting she enlarge her breasts, change her face, shrink her waist. She was starting to think that all men were pigs.

For a while she had thought that if she found a mature enough man it would be enough. She had even considered going after Remus Lupin. He was a good man, and not bad to look at. And he certainly knew what it was like to be harassed and hated. For a few months the summer of 1995, she watched him carefully, trying to decide whether or not she wanted to proceed. It took nearly three weeks to notice the pattern. His attention to her changed depending on her look. When she went with some of the crazy looks she preferred, he would shake his head and look away. When she looked older and more staid, his eyes would follow every move she made. He only wanted her when she conformed to his way of thinking. He was just like all the rest, only he wanted something different out of her than the others. But it discouraged her that he, too, wanted her to change for him.

Tonks had sworn off men after that. She had only ever encountered one male whose attention wasn't directly tied to her look. His interest in her morphing has always been awe and curiosity, not lust, and he had treated her the exact same no matter how she looked. It had been amazingly refreshing.

It was such a pity he was unavailable to her.

She sighed with resignation as she took the Portkey. One day, she would find someone who could accept her for who she was, instead of what she looked like.

* * *

August 5, 1997

"You are Nymphadora Tonks, the metamorph?"

The pink haired young woman scowled. Why was it so hard for anyone to understand that _she hated that name_? "Yes. Though I really prefer to be called Tonks. It's such a horrible name, you see."

The man didn't respond to this statement. "You have made your Vow."

She growled at the hooded figure. "Yes. I really wish it weren't necessary. I hate Vows; you can never know all it includes."

The figure chuckled. "You have no idea, Tonks."

Her brows furrowed. At least he had dropped the infernal name, but now he seemed to be taking the mickey. What did he know that she didn't? "So, are you going to take that hood off? I am supposed to train you, am I not? And where are we going to do this? Here?" She looked around the small room. "It's rather drab, though I suppose I can spice things up a bit."

Another chuckle. She had to repress the urge to growl angrily at him. "To ease your mind, I will give you my own Vow." He pulled his hand out of his large cloak and extended it. The rather forgettable Ministry official in the corner stepped forward, wand drawn, to be their binder. "I swear to never knowingly cause physical harm to Nymphadora Tonks, outside of training related injuries. I swear to protect her interests and secrets, in so far as they do not directly contradict my own. I swear that my interests run towards the same goal as hers, and that I will use her training to further these causes."

She watched as the bands of magic sealed the Vow, slightly surprised that he would not only swear such things, but know what would be important to her. After all, they had never met before and he knew nothing about her. She withdrew her hand and clapped excitedly. "Well, let's get this show on the road!"

He laughed softly. "Always so eager. Take my hand."

"Where're we going?" She quipped. Her eyes were trying to pierce the shadows surrounding his face. The way he talked, she would almost swear that he knew her. Come to think of it, wasn't she supposed to be training an American? His accent was definitely English.

"Home. It is safe." Was his simple answer.

She didn't know if it was only because of the Vow he had given, or if she would have trusted him without it, but she allowed him to apparate her away. The room they landed in appeared to be the sitting room of a rather impressive looking flat. There were huge windows on one wall overlooking a lovely park, and all kinds of Muggle entertainment equipment along another wall.

"Where are we?"

"New York City." He pointed out the window to a rather remarkable view. "That is Central Park."

"Oooh! This must have cost a fortune." The bounced towards the window to get a better view.

"Hm, possibly. I traded in a home that I inherited for it. I needed a place to, ah, get away from things."

"Too many girls chasing after you? I had a similar problem."

"Not exactly. I did not discover my metamorph abilities until this last year. No, I came here a year ago for very different reasons."

"Well, seeing as how we're stuck together for a fair bit, you might as well tell me."

His hands came up to the hood of his cloak. "I'm sure you can figure it out for yourself," he whispered, just before lowering the hood. And promptly had to duck the spell she sent at him.

"Who are you really?" She growled.

"Really, Tonks. Do you think it is possible to trick an Unbreakable Vow?"

Her wand still levelled between his eyes, she examined him carefully. "No, but Harry Potter ran away from home a year ago and no one has seen him since."

"True. I had my uncle drop me off at the travel agent's place on the way home from the Hogwarts Express. They were happy to be rid of me. Shortly after, I was here, and I've been here ever since. I didn't use a bit of magic until my birthday a week ago, but I've been keeping myself relatively busy nonetheless." He grinned. "Now, are you going to get around to asking the secret questions so you can drop your wand?"

She growled at his cheek. "Fine. When was the first time we met? What was the most requested morph while staying at Headquarters? What form does your Patronus take? How were your godfather and I related? And what the hell have you been doing for a year?"

"You were part of the advanced guard to bring me to Headquarters, located between Number 11 and Number 13 Grimmauld Place, the summer before my fifth year; you broke a dish in the kitchen, alerting me to your presence. I believe it was a pig snout. Last I checked it was still a stag, after my father's Animagus form. Sirius and your mother Andromeda were first cousins; they were both stricken from the family tree for behaviour unbefitting a Black. And if you'd put your wand away, I'll sit down and tell you."

Her wand had been dropping slowly with each answer. Finally she huffed and stalked over to the large couch. "Fine. Get on with it." Her eye twitched when a very familiar owl swooped into the room and landed on Harry's shoulder. It was the final proof she needed that he was who he said he was.

"Well, quite a bit of time was spent on physical training."

She grinned slightly. "I can tell."

"Yes, well I've reached _yodan _level in _Bujutsu_, I'm quite good at Capoeira, and a mob hit man has been teaching me to work with knives. He keeps trying to get me to work jobs with him."

She held up a hand. "Mind explaining a couple of those words?"

He chuckled. "It means I'm a fourth level black belt in a style of Muggle martial arts. And rather proficient in a South American mix between fighting and dance."

"And the mob, Harry? Are you insane?"

"I certainly hope not. But that's a long story for another time."

"Fine. What else?"

"I have enough books to make Hermione green with envy, and I've pretty much memorised most of them. I knew I couldn't practice magic, so I studied the theory for hours at a time. Then I practiced the movements with a stick and accuracy with a paintball gun. I think my Occlumency is pretty good now, and all the spells I've tried over the past week have worked perfectly."

She sighed. "Okay. It seems you actually have been smart about this. But why, Harry? Why did you leave? And why didn't you tell anyone?" Harry was rather shocked at the expression on her face; it seemed she genuinely cared about the answer. Maybe she wasn't as under Dumbledore's thumb as he had thought.

"Because everyone should have the chance to decide their own path in life. The only way I would be able to choose mine is by leaving."

"There's more."

"Of course there is. But that's all I'm going to say for now."

"I swore a Vow, Harry. I can't betray your confidence."

"It's not that. I'm just not comfortable talking about much of it."

"But you will be eventually?"

"Probably." He gave a half grin. "You have to realise, Tonks, that the only people I've even talked to in the last year are my teachers. I'm not exactly good at this people interaction thing."

"Fine. Now, what's this about you being a metamorph? I think Dumbledore would have mentioned something like that."

"True, if he knew about it." She threw him a dirty look. "Well, I've always had this thing with my hair."

"You mean how it looks like a right mess?"

"Yeah. There isn't anything that can tame it, and believe me, I've tried. But more than that, it hasn't grown an inch longer than this in my life. And if you cut it, it's right back to the same look the next morning."

"Hm, that sounds promising."

"And then, shortly after I got here, I may have gotten a tad drunk." She rolled her eyes. "It was only the once, as it's not an experience I relished, but that was a bad day. Anyway, I woke up with green hair, puked some more, and found it had turned curry brown. It went back to normal when my hangover left."

"And you haven't had anything else change?"

"No. I've read every reference I can find, and tried everything I can think of, but nothing."

"Hm, this could be difficult. But we'll get it." She paused and tilted her head to eye him. "What made that day so bad?"

He tensed, but she simply waited for him to answer. He didn't really want to, but figured she wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important to discover the reason behind his largest morph to date so they could replicate it. Finally he started, with a sigh. "I got a letter from Ginny that day." He dragged his hand roughly through his hair. "I had been writing her all summer, along with Ron and Hermione. I guess... I guess we had been flirting a bit, and there had been talk of seeing each other, but she changed her mind. It was right after school started, and everyone found out I had run away. She said that I must be a coward for running away from my problems. She said that even if I did come back, she didn't see how we could be together. She wanted someone who faced their problems head on, instead of hiding when things got difficult. She said that I must not be the person she thought I was if I could simply walk away and leave the war behind me."

"Oh, Harry! You know she probably didn't mean it."

"Believe me, she meant it."

Tonks doubted this. She knew the redhead had a fierce temper, and she also remembered what it was like to be a fifteen-year-old girl. She had often found herself saying things in the heat of the moment she didn't really mean once her head had cooled down. But she didn't think she could get Harry to understand that. He had never really been a kid, and so didn't understand what it was like to be one. "But she could change her mind. She doesn't understand the pressure you were under, and you know she has that temper. She just needed time to cool off."

His face went hard. "No, Tonks. She made her choice. If she couldn't allow me to do what I have to, then there is no future for us. I learned this year that the person you are with has to accept you for who you are completely, no matter what. I had thought... but it doesn't matter anymore. I've come to the conclusion that she wouldn't have been good for me. My brain is too old for my own body, and Ginny, despite being a wonderful girl, is still a girl. I don't think romance is for me until the end of all this. It would be hard for me to be with someone when I'm worried about surviving and saving the world and she is worried about gossip and essays."

Tonks sighed. She didn't think he was being entirely fair to Ginny, but she understood how the young girl, in a fit of Weasley temper, could have said enough to cause this reaction. "Okay, Harry, I understand." She bit nervously on her lip before continuing. "You know, it is just going to get worse with girls, right?"

He gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you already get all this attention for being the Boy-Who-Lived, but it will be so much worse once you defeat Voldemort."

"You mean if."

She smacked the back of his head. "Don't say that!"

"Sorry, Tonks."

"You'd better be." She gave him a stern glare and fingered her wand, as if to remind him not to say such things again or he would get worse than a slap on the head. "Now, what I was saying is that as a boy, you only had to deal with fan girl attention from girls around your own age. But the Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort is going to be pulling it in from every woman under the age of fifty. And it will be even worse if they find out you're a metamorph." Her eyes flashed with pain for a moment.

"Is that what happened to you?" He asked softly.

"Yeah. I didn't think to hide what I was when I first went to Hogwarts, as I was so excited about showing it off. By the time I was a fourth year, the boys started coming around. Eventually, every single one of them asked me to change. Some wanted me to turn into a specific girl they were pining after. Some wanted me to become their idea of the perfect woman. Some just wanted me to enhance certain features. But every single one of them asked."

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Tonks."

She gave him a small smile. "Not much use being sorry, is it? It's already happened."

"I know. But you didn't deserve that. Those guys were idiots."

"Aw, thanks, Harry."

"Did you ever think about what would happen if you did fall in love?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, I've thought about it some. If I was in love, I think I'd like to look better for her. Get a bit taller, bulk up some, and... other things."

She grinned. "Hm, that would be convenient." He glared briefly. "I don't know, I guess I hadn't considered that I might want to change for him. How would I know he loved me for me?"

"Well, I imagine if he really did love you he would love you in whatever form you took. Some just might be more pleasurable during certain times."

"That's an interesting way of thinking about it. I'll have to get back to you." She jumped up off the couch, pulling Harry along with her. He gave her an amused smile. "Now, let's get to the interesting stuff! I want to see if I can push you into unconscious morphing."

"Okay. What do you want to do?"

"Well, might as well make it useful. As seen in your previous experiences, the only time you morph is when you are under extreme duress, so I need to replicate that. How do you feel about a duel?"

"Sure. Magic or Muggle?"

"Ooh! Both!"

Harry laughed. "You're one of a kind, Tonks. Don't ever change." He missed the look on her face as he had already turned and was walking away. "Come on, I'll show you my training room."

Shaking her head in awe at the young man before her, she followed after him. It was obvious that his room was used more for working out than spellcraft, but she flicked her wand and found that he had added most of the standard wards to protect it. "Good job on the spells. Is it alright if I add a few more?"

"Sure. Which ones?"

Her wand started moving in intricate patterns, but she narrated as she worked. "You have the basic protections for the room itself, and built in cushioning charms, but this one will help prevent injury in its walls. You can still get hurt, but it minimizes it quite a bit." She paused as her wand began a new sequence. "This one will help absorb some of the residual magic. I know they track things differently over here, but we still don't want them to know how much magic we are using." She took a long pause before taking her wand and touching it against his chest, then against her own. "And that one, that one will alert me if you get seriously injured in here when I'm not here."

He cocked his head to the side, considering her, and trying to figure out why she would do such a thing. But he didn't ask her. Instead, he took a step back and drew his wand. "Shall we?"

* * *

A/N: Many of you were confused by the parts with Ginny in the last chapter. I hope this answers some of your questions. I included it for two reasons, one that he needed that large emotional trauma to start his morphing and splitting with Ron or Hermione could not cause it (as he had already split from each of them separately at one point or another) so it had to be someone he had a different relationship with. The second reason is that many of my reviewers from other stories dislike that I have stopped using Ginny as the main pairing. Thus I used this to show that he could have been with her, it just was bad timing and teenage anger.


	3. The Answer

Tonks watched him carefully as he moved around the kitchen, humming slightly, fixing them dinner. She was slightly astonished to learn he enjoyed cooking, but was prepared to try it first before insisting that they always get takeout. Their duel had been interesting, to say the least. He was clearly lacking in experience, but he moved so fluidly and quickly she had problems tagging him with a spell. And then, he would pull some obscure piece of magic out that she hadn't even seen before. His magic tired much quicker than his body, and he resorted to Muggle fighting more and more. Here, she was clearly outmatched. What had been the most interesting, however, was that his movements were always so close to her and graceful, without ever actually hurting her. Though she had no doubt that he could, if he wished. And he regularly caught her off guard, only to let her out of his trap. She wondered if this South American fighting style he mentioned was responsible for his grace, and vowed to watch him fight someone else to see.

She had called a halt to the fighting eventually, and demanded that he show her how he was always able to dodge so effectively. With a grin he had done so, unashamedly taking her and manipulating her body. She had taken the opportunity to show him some combat morph skills. Many of the things he showed her, her current form had trouble performing, so she merely changed it subtly.

Harry had been in awe.

He wanted to see exactly what was going on, so she had transfigured her clothes to a skin-tight suit that allowed him to more clearly see each change she employed. He had watched diligently.

Curious, she had faintly enhanced her chest to see if he would display the typical male reaction. He had instantly noticed, and turned to her with a mock glare, telling her to stop playing around and get back to work. She had a hard time hiding her pleased smile at this reaction. It made her consider his early words about relationships; maybe he was on to something.

"Do you like mushrooms?" He asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She shook her head furiously. "No. Can't stand them."

"Hm, okay. What about artichokes?"

She gave him an odd look. "No idea."

He gave a cheeky grin. "Great. You get to try something new tonight." He turned back to his chopping. "What are you thinking about so seriously over there?"

She wasn't about to tell him the truth, but found an answer anyway. "Trying to figure out what is blocking your morphing. It is highly unusual for a metamorph not to display obvious tendencies early on." In fact, every story she had ever heard about another morpher stated quite clearly that they had been doing so since shortly after birth.

Harry stiffened slightly. "Well, who's to say I didn't? I mean, it's not like the Dursleys would have told me if I was doing magic when I was a baby. They would have tried to pretend it never happened. And before that I was pretty isolated. I could have been morphing from the day I was born and no one would have known. But I think it more likely it would have started when I was at Privet Drive. It only would have taken one time of me changing in front of them for the Dursleys to tear into my hide."

"You mean you could have been morphing as a kid, but they would have simply ignored it?"

"More like punished me for it, as it probably would have made them hate me even more. In fact, I might have learned not to morph because of their reactions."

"Oh, well that's a possibility. So we need to convince your magic that you won't get in trouble for morphing?"

"Maybe."

She considered this. "Well, we could use positive reinforcements. Promise you rewards for every successful level of morphing you achieve."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "But what? I have everything I need."

"Everything?"

He turned back to his work before answering, and she suspected it was so she wouldn't see his facial expression. "Yeah."

"Aren't you lonely, Harry?"

He stiffened slightly, but didn't turn around. "Course not. You're here now. And I like being on my own. It's the only time I don't have to pretend to be someone else." She could understand this quite well.

"I'm not talking about friends."

He paused again and looked at her in complete confusion. "What?"

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Men were so dense. And adorable, but mostly dense. "Have you ever been with a girl?"

He gave her a blank look for a minute until he figured out what she was talking about. Then his expression went hard. "I told you, I can't do romance right now."

"So don't. But that doesn't mean you can't have a little fun."

He glared at her. "You should know me better than that, Tonks."

"Fine. I'll find something, though."

"Have at. Now, how do you feel about garlic wine sauces?"

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Tonks followed Harry to all his regular hang outs, completely enamoured of the big city. He took her to his studio and she watched in wonder as he systematically destroyed the three fighters they had set against him. At the same time. Then he took her to a rundown playground in a rather interesting neighbourhood, and she watched him dance around and mock fight the others there. She was in awe. It took him five days to convince her to let him introduce her to his mob contact. Surprisingly, she liked the sly man, and allowed him to show her several tricks. The man reminded her much of Moody, only without the limp. And the eye, though somehow he still seemed to be able to see behind his back. She hadn't quite figured out how the Muggle could do that.

She also insisted that Harry show her the real New York, and so at night they would explore the teeming city and its many clubs and restaurants. In addition, she was convinced that getting him a girl would help the situation. Tonks watched him carefully, trying to see when he had a strong reaction to any of the many women that swarmed the handsome young man.

She was completely flabbergasted when he ignored them all.

He did, however, always let her know that she looked nice, and maintained a careful presence near her to dissuade the many hangers-on of her own she gathered. It was endearing that he was so protective of her.

She had pushed him through any scenario she could think of to try and force his morphing, to no avail. He simply displayed no evidence of a change. So they spent time instead duelling and teaching each other as much as possible.

She had never enjoyed herself so much.

* * *

Harry had long since determined it was a serious mistake to agree to Tonks helping him. If she had actually been able to teach him how to morph, he might have found it worth it, but instead he was slowly being tortured with no sight of any returns. He knew she was trying to get him a girl; that had been fairly obvious. But Harry simply wasn't attracted to any of them. Sure, he recognised that many of them were pretty, but he knew it would take more than that. He was so complicated, that it would take someone with more than just a pretty face to understand him. He needed someone that was strong, a fighter that could keep up with him when the craziness of his life forced him to fight. He needed someone who could snap him out of the depressing thoughts it was all too easy to slip into, and remind him of the good in the world. He needed someone who was truly his equal. There was also the small fact that none of the women he saw held a candle to Tonks, no matter what face she wore.

And hence the torture.

He had always known that Tonks was special, and she had always been beautiful, but it had been different when he first met her. He had just been a naive kid and she had seemed so much older then. She had been an unattainable fantasy. But now he was acutely aware that she was only six years older than him, and that he was a kid no longer. Her fire and zest for life entranced him, and balanced out his morose and brooding moods quite nicely. And her ability to always be positive was remarkable to him, because he had to often struggle with the same.

He found that he was enthralled by what form she chose to take every day, and constantly wondering what had made her decide on certain changes. He tracked regular things such as hair and eye colour, trying to use it to understand her moods better. He wondered what had made her sad on days when she took a more subdued form, and how she found the strength to keep being so excited about life on the days she became eye-catching. It never seemed to bother her if he was the only one who ever saw her; she still took great delight in changing everything about herself regularly. But the more time he spent with her, the better he was able to always recognise Tonks under the changes. He was fairly confident now that, even in a crowd, he could pick her out no matter what she looked like.

Despite the way she had been treated by guys her entire life, Tonks seemed to love to have the attention of all the males around. This certainly included him, and he wondered how much of it was intentional. He knew that she enjoyed using her body to tease him, but maintained rigid control on his Occlumency training to ensure that nothing of what he was feeling or thinking ever escaped.

She insisted that they go out regularly, and it was always sweet torture to watch her dancing in the clubs. The way she moved enticed him like no one else ever had, and he was amazed that in all her careful watching of him she hadn't realised that he was always watching her. Or the Neanderthals that constantly surrounded her. He routinely had to use force to keep them away from her. He had started applying mild repelling charms every time they went out, and had even resorted to several Confundus charms. He had seen for himself what types of men lurked in the dark clubs of New York City, and he refused to let any of them near her.

He had thought many times that it would be better for his peace of mind to send her away, but he could never bring himself to do it. Recalling his life before she came, it seemed dull and dreary and he had no wish to return to it. Whatever else could be said about Nymphadora Tonks, the colour she brought to his life was undeniable.

* * *

Tonks was practically bubbling with enthusiasm over the new club that was opening tonight. The DJ had excellent reviews, and she couldn't wait to go. But it had taken over an hour to convince Harry, and that was without telling him that the club was a little… kinky might be the right word. Harry's mood had darkened more with each day since she had been there, and she thought it would do him good to get out and enjoy himself. Not that he ever did. She sighed in frustration. She was bound and determined to get him a girl tonight. The boy needed a good round in the sack more than anyone she knew. Maybe if he wasn't constantly worried about her he would pay more attention to all the girls that were eying him up. She would have to do something about that.

He offered her a genuine smile when she strolled out of her room to find him standing waiting for her, dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt that hugged his torso and showed off his fairly impressive physique. They took a cab down to the club, as she didn't want to walk that far in her boots. She loved them, but the heel got uncomfortable after a while, and she wanted to be able to dance at the club tonight. But they certainly looked good with the short skirt she was wearing.

They were able to get in fairly quickly. It was hard for any man to refuse Tonks anything if she really wanted it. Tonks liked what she saw inside. The club was decorated with bright colours that matched her personality, and was teeming with life already. There were raised platforms throughout the large room, each with dancers on display. Tonks had to resist chuckling when she saw Harry's face when he first caught a look. She doubted that he had ever seen someone wearing quite such an outfit. The music was pulsating throughout the room, and she found her hips moving almost without thought. She convinced Harry to dance with her, carefully eyeing the crowd for the ladies that were paying particularly attention to the handsome man by her side. There was a cute little redhead dancing nearby that she thought might do. And based on his interest in Ginny, she assumed he liked red hair. The girl was also eyeing him speculatively as they danced.

Tonks' eyes scanned the club again, looking for someone to distract herself with. There was a tall blond man behind them that looked like he would do nicely. She winked at him and smiled when he returned her look. She turned back to Harry and pulled his head down so that he could hear her over the loud music.

"There's a fellow over there I want to get better acquainted with. You should amuse yourself. There's a cute redhead over there that's been eyeing you since we came in, I'm sure she'll keep you plenty entertained."

His body stilled as she spoke, and then he pulled back. He stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face for a moment.

"Harry?"

Her eyes widened in shock as his hair flashed red and his eyes went black. In an instant, they were back to normal and she was blinking in shock when he leaned down to speak. "Sure, Tonks. Have fun. I don't feel much like dancing tonight; I might just head home."

Tonks watched, still too shocked to speak, as he walked stiffly away. His hands were clenched at his sides as he quickly made his way out of the club, and the crowd parted before him. She wondered if it was just the expression on his face, or if his magic was seeping out.

She felt a hand on the small of her back and looked up, startled, to see the blond she had been eyeing earlier. He pushed on her back, trying to pull her into him, but she just shook her head. She needed to think, and this wasn't the place to do that. She pushed her way through the crowd and into the bathroom in the back. Once there, she quickly apparated out.

Harry had shown her the Park when she first arrived, and she fell in love with Turtle Pond. So she quickly found a seat in the deserted Delacorte Theater that overlooked it.

Her mind was in turmoil—Harry had finally morphed, and it was because of her. All this time she thought that he only morphed under conditions of extreme physical duress, but now she wondered. Both times she knew about had been when he was rejected by a girl, though her rejection had been done unconsciously. So maybe it was more about emotions. But he had controlled it almost instantly, not letting on to his distress. Maybe that was the key; Harry maintained rigid control of his magic at all times, and it only slipped when his emotional equilibrium was seriously upset. That gave her several new angles to try with his morphing.

But first she had to sort out how she felt about this new development.

She had always known that Harry was an exceptional boy, and she had been in awe of him for years. But when he pulled that hood off a couple of weeks ago and she saw the new and improved Harry Potter, she had realised that he had changed. She knew, of course, that he was now considered a man, but she had been careful not to let herself think of him like that. She knew how easy it would be to follow the path of almost every other girl in England and fall in love with the legend. She respected him too much to do that.

Of course, then he had to go and show her that he was so very different from that legend. Over the last few weeks she had learned things about Harry Potter that completely astonished her. And he was always so caring towards her; she had even told him things she had sworn never to reveal. But she was so comfortable with him it didn't bother her that he knew her long kept secrets. Still, she had never allowed herself to look at him as a man. She kept that careful distance in her mind to protect herself. And Harry seemed to be of the same mind. He had even flat out told her that he couldn't do romance right now.

Then again, his reasons had all been geared to girls his own age. The same wouldn't apply to her. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and he knew that. Then she considered her own objections to a relationship. Harry had managed to convince her that she might be able to find true happiness in a man, and shown her how a man truly in love would deal with her morphing. In fact, she was a little surprised she had never realised this herself. So that took care of one of her objections.

He might very well be interested in such with her, because based on his reactions tonight she knew he must feel something for her. Her initial reaction had to been to classify it with the crush that most boys and men seemed to have on her, which was intimately tied to her ability to turn herself into anyone they wanted. But she knew Harry, and she didn't think he would ever think of her like that. There was also the fact that Harry always looked at her the same way. She hadn't thought, before tonight, that it was with any particular interest, but there was no doubt how he had reacted tonight, and that led her to believe that he must have thought that way about her for most of the last few weeks. No other man had ever acted like this, having the same reaction to her no matter how she looked, besides her father.

She allowed herself to consider, for the first time, the idea of being with him.

She was certainly attracted to him, and it wasn't just about the way he looked. Which was good, considering that his look would hopefully be shifting about a bit soon. No, she could understand what he had said about liking a metamorph in any form. She pictured him with changes, and they were all appealing—Harry's most attractive feature was his aura, not his looks. She was also, she had to admit, insanely attracted to his fighting skills and the very way he moved. She could sense the power and force in him, and it was... appealing in a way she had never felt before. And even the way he thought about life served to ground her usual exuberance. Her attitude would serve as a balance to his moodiness, and yet she knew that she was not all light-heartedness and goofing off; she could be serious when it was needed.

Yes, she admitted, they could be good together.

So now the question was, would she allow herself to go there? And to this she had no easy answer.

* * *

Harry was cooking breakfast the next morning when Tonks wandered into the flat. He looked up and gave her a smile. "How was your night?"

She wondered if she was imagining the tightness about his eyes; he certainly hid it very well. That just meant she would have to push harder. She smiled brightly. "Good!"

"Oh. I'm glad." He didn't really look it, though. Right now, he looked more like she had remembered him looking before, when the world was against him and he had just lost Sirius. "Did you have fun with... what's his name?"

Ah, so he thought she had... well, she could use that to her advantage. "Brian. And yes, he was an excellent specimen of a man." Well, he might have been, if she had hung around to find out. His name might even have been Brian.

Harry turned around to continue with his cooking, and she wondered what expression was on his face that he felt the need to hide. "Good for you. I'm glad you're getting out and enjoying yourself. You deserve to be happy." She wondered why he allowed her the happiness he repeatedly denied himself.

She was quiet as they ate breakfast, watching him carefully, and planning. She helped him clean up before pulling him into the living room and pushing him down onto the couch.

"Okay, Harry." She said excitedly. "I think I had an epiphany last night about your morphing."

"Busy night," he said, dryly.

She just smiled.

After several minutes of silence, he finally huffed impatiently. "So, are you going to tell me what you figured out?"

"Nope!" She answered brightly.

He looked shocked. "Why not?"

"Because I want to see if I'm right before I say anything."

And adorably confused. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

"Well, I've figured out a training regime for you, if you can just find what triggers your transformations."

"Tonks," he groaned in frustration. "You know I don't know how to trigger it."

She smiled. He might not, but she did, and it was time to test out her hypothesis. "Oh, well then. I guess we have nothing to do today." She bounced out of her seat. "Then I can go spend the day with Brian."

She was looking for it, so she saw his eyes flash black.

"Sure, Tonks. Have fun." His voice was perfectly even. She was impressed with his control.

She beamed at him and plopped back down into her seat. "So, how'd you do it?" She asked brightly.

He stared at her in complete confusion. "Do what?"

"Your eyes flashed black. They did it last night, too."

He jolted in shock. "They did?"

"Yep. Last night your hair flashed, too." She was bouncing in her seat.

"But... how?" He looked completely incredulous. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at his expression.

Her excited smile softened a bit. "Well, what is the common thread between last night and this morning?" He really needed to figure it out for himself. He would probably be embarrassed if she had to tell him.

She saw the exact moment when he figured it out because his face hardened before falling into a blank mask.

"I was thinking about this," she said softly. "I think you have such tight control on your magic, it only slips when you're extremely upset." Relief showed in his eyes, and she wondered if he thought she hadn't guessed _why_ he had been upset.

"So you're going to purposely upset me now?" He did not look thrilled with this prospect.

"Hm, no. I was merely making sure my hunch was right."

His eyes were tight again. "So you're really not going to meet the blond wonder?"

She scooted closer towards him. "No, Harry."

"And... last night?" She wondered how much it cost him to ask that.

"I left right after you did."

She could see the restraint evident in every line of his body. His eyes were determinedly refusing to look at hers. "Then why..."

She moved closer. "Harry, I want you to morph for me."

"I can't!" He sounded remarkably like a petulant child, and she had to fight a smile. He always seemed so old, it was nice to see that hadn't left his youth completely behind.

"Yes, you can." He finally met her eyes, and her heart hurt to see the despair there. She raised her hands and carefully placed them on either side of his face. "You can, Harry."

She held his gaze, trying to convey as much encouragement as she could. She could see the strain in his eyes as he struggled to find the ability. Without breaking his gaze, she slowly climbed into his lap, folding a leg on either side of him and sinking down to rest on his legs.

"I know you can do this, Harry. I know you can."

He didn't break her gaze, but she could feel the shiver that ran through his body as she sat down. They sat like that for long minutes, not looking away from each other. She could feel him shaking slightly beneath her. Slowly, ever so slowly, his beautiful emerald eyes turned darker. When they were fully brown, she smiled brilliantly at him.

"That's marvellous, Harry!" Her hands slid from his face back to tangle in his hair. "Now, match me."

Her eyes went startling blue, and she slowly played with his hair as he matched her. It took nearly fifteen minutes. Next was grey, then silver, then yellow, and red, and purple, each one taking slightly less time for him to achieve. By this point, Harry was practically wilting from the exertion, so she switched to green and felt him relax under her.

"Are you ready for your reward?"

He gave the barest hint of a nod. Slowly, she moved forward and brushed her lips across his, never breaking eye contact. Carefully, she pulled back.

"Why did you do that?" He whispered.

"Because you wanted it." He jerked as if she had slapped him, and she hurried to explain further. "And because I finally admitted to myself that I did, too."

"Explain, please." He asked carefully.

She could feel that he was holding himself in tight control, and hurried to sooth him. "When I first met you, the scared, skinny, and lost boy intrigued me. I could see that you had great power in you, but you didn't know how to reach it. I could see that, despite everything you had been through, you had one of the biggest hearts I had ever encountered." She blushed slightly. "And you had the most expressive eyes I have ever seen." He smiled shyly at this. "Even just now, when they were a different colour, you never lost that quality. They were always your eyes, no matter what colour they were."

He smiled briefly, recognising what she was trying to tell him with that. She had accepted that what appearance he wore didn't matter.

She gave an impish grin. "Though I am partial to your natural green, but that may change. I'll let you know." She paused, recalling her train of thought. "I had to work hard to look at you a certain way." He looked confused. "You have no idea how easy it would have been to fall into the trap of fancying the Harry Potter of legend. But I could see how little you resembled that legend, and so I forced you into a category in my mind of kids that I wasn't allowed to think of any other way." He gave a soft smile of understanding.

"I've kept you as that lost kid in my head for two years now, Harry. Even when I got here and could see for myself that you were now a man, I shied away from acknowledging it."

"Why?" He asked quietly.

"Because, I figured you had enough hopelessly devoted fan girls after you. I've been convinced for years that I could never have a real, meaningful relationship, and you didn't deserve anything less."

"Then why did you keep pushing me towards other girls?"

"Because I was trying to cement myself in the friend role. Isn't that what a best mate does? Be your wingman as you look for girls?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't know. Never really had much luck with girls." There was something in his eyes that she didn't understand.

She smiled. "Tell me."

"I fancied this girl at school for a while, Cho Chang. She was the Ravenclaw Seeker, a year ahead of me. In my fifth year, she kissed me once, and then we went to Hogsmeade." He rolled his eyes. "It was a bloody disaster. The only thing we had in common was Quidditch, and she burst into tears every time we were alone. Then she stopped talking to me because of Hermione. Which I don't get—it's not like she didn't know I was friends with Hermione before she kissed me. And I've never thought of Hermione like that. It should be obvious to everyone." He shook his head in confusion and she had to resist the urge to chuckle. She could understand how a teenage girl was intimidated by his relationship with the girl. "And then I spent some time with Ginny, and the letters. I really thought we could make something work with her. But you know what happened with that."

"There was never anyone else?" She asked softly. It was a shocking revelation, that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had no experience with girls.

"No." He was unable to mask the dejection in his voice.

"Have you thought about what it would mean, if we were to do this?"

He pulled his eyes down from hers to stare at her stomach instead. "No. I wouldn't let myself." She understood this, as she had done the same thing.

"Let's discuss this, then."

"Okay." He met her eyes again.

"There's the age difference. I am six years older than you." Of course, mentally they were pretty equal.

"Yes, but how long ago did I stop being a kid?"

"I agree. But when this gets out people will make a fuss." She wasn't looking forward to that possibility, as the press would probably get pretty bad.

He scoffed. "When have I ever cared what other people thought? Besides, I'm not entirely convinced that I'll let people know it's me when I go back. I might just be Harry Lewis for the rest of my life." That was a tempting idea. Then they could inflate his age to hopefully avoid some of the fallout. Of course, the fact that he wouldn't be Harry Potter meant that there probably wouldn't be much of a fuss anyways.

"And Voldemort?" This was a big one.

He hesitated before answering. "I always told myself that I couldn't be serious with anyone until after I dealt with him. But it's different with you."

"Why?"

"I don't have to worry so much. You can take care of yourself. And you aren't naive about the danger you could be in. You understand."

"Yes, I do." She took a big breath. "And the morphing?"

He grinned slightly. "Didn't I already explain this to you?"

"Yes. I'm just making sure. You know I've not had good experiences before."

He nodded, and pushed on her slightly until she got up. "Change for me."

Hesitantly, she took a voluptuous blonde form.

He stood and walked to her, his eyes sweeping over her body before meeting hers. His hands came up and cupped her face. "You are beautiful." She smiled, and he stepped back. "Change."

She took a slim brunette form.

Again, his eyes swept her body. "Beautiful," he whispered. "Change."

An athletic redhead.

A short Asian girl

A slightly plump girl with black hair.

A Middle Eastern girl with curly hair.

A willowy girl with silver hair.

A black girl with tightly braided hair.

A short girl with blue hair.

And, finally, her normal form with customary pink hair.

His reaction never changed. When she had cycled through, he asked quietly, "Do you see? I will always like what I see, as long as you don't try to turn into a real person. I have a problem with you pretending to be someone else, outside of missions for the Aurors or such." She had to resist the urge to beam at him. "You are always beautiful to me."

She grinned and became a sickly old hag. "Even now?"

"Of course. I can feel that it is you, whatever your outward form." He could tell she didn't believe him, so he carefully stepped forward and pulled her tightly against him. With open eyes he lowered his head and kissed her.

Tonks whimpered, her own hands snaking up into his hair.

He pulled back just enough so that he could talk. "When you love someone, it doesn't matter what they look like."

She smiled and morphed in his arms. He grinned as soft brown hair grew down past her shoulders and fell over his hands. He twisted his fingers through it.

"Though we would look a little weird if you went out as an old lady and I still couldn't keep my hands off of you. Perhaps we should hold that morph until I can match?"

She giggled, and then gave him a stern look. "Weren't you supposed to be the one that was morphing today?"

He smirked. "Are you going to reward me?"

"Oh, yes." She stepped back and pushed him down onto the couch again, then resumed her seat in his lap. "We did eyes. Next is hair. Match me."

Black to brown, to blond, to red, to purple, to blue, to green, to silver, to gold, to white. After each morph, she would lean forward and kiss him, each one getting longer and deeper. When she finally went back to black, she gave up stopping and just continued to kiss him. They would pull away to pant only to crash back together seconds later. It was obvious to her that he wasn't a very experienced kisser, but his passion and enthusiasm more than made up for it. And he was a quick learner.

She pulled back, forced in several panting breaths, and murmured, "Tongue." She showed her own tongue and demonstrated as it grew in length. He grinned and took a minute to figure out how, then matched her. With a grin she leaned back into him, and quickly showed him the benefits associated with a longer and more agile tongue.

When Tonks eventually pulled away to allow him to make them some lunch, it was with a large smile on her face. She had figured out how to train Harry, and the side benefits were impressive. And he seemed to have completely worked through whatever block he had placed on his magic. His ability to hold the morphs needed to be trained, but she didn't think it would be a problem. She idly wondered if his regular spell work would be affected. She watched him as he cooked, outlining the order that they would try morphing in. When he placed their plates down and sat opposite her, she looked down nervously and picked at her food.

"Tonks?"

"You don't have to call me that, Harry."

She looked up to see his brow furrowed. "But you hate your name."

"Well, I don't want you to call me Nymphadora. But Tonks... it just doesn't seem appropriate for a... um..."

"Boyfriend?" He suggested, grinning.

She smiled. "Yeah, a boyfriend to use."

"So what do you want me to call you? Nym? Nymph? Dora?"

She considered this carefully. "I don't know. Sometimes people call me Dora, and it's not too bad."

"But you want me to have my own name for you?"

She smiled shyly. He was extremely perceptive. "Yeah."

He smirked. "Well, you are my very own nymph, so I could call you that."

She made a face, and he took this to mean she didn't like it. "I've been called that before..." And she very much didn't want to be constantly reminded of those experiences.

He nodded, and retreated into thought. "Well, how about I name you after a famous nymph. So there will still be that connection but it won't actually be a part of your original name."

"You are not calling me Calypso." She glared at him as her hair flashed green.

He grinned. "I like Thetis. She created a great warrior, and you're turning me into one. Though I would appreciate it if we could skip the ankle problem."

She giggled. "Let's try it out and see." She took several bites of her lunch. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Okay."

"You told me about your experience with girls, or lack thereof."

"Yes," he acknowledged hesitantly.

"You've only ever kissed one other girl, and nothing else." He nodded. "I've done a bit more than that."

"I know."

"Does that bother you?"

He shrugged. "I'm sure it would if I thought about it too much, but that wouldn't be very fair of me. Of course you've done more; you've had six more years living life, and you're naturally more outgoing than me. Why? Were you worried?"

"A bit. But I also want to know... well, I guess what I mean is I need you to let me know how comfortable you are with certain things, and how fast you want to move in this."

"Oh." He set his fork down. "First of all, I will let you know if there is ever anything I'm not okay with." She smiled. "Second, I'll admit that my knowledge of the more... physical aspects of relationships is rather limited. But I am by no means wary of anything. So as long as you don't mind having to guide your naive boyfriend, I really don't think there is any reason to be worried."

"I can live with that." She grinned at his maturity. He really had grown up.

"Was there something in particular that concerned you?"

"Well, I have been worried for weeks about certain aspects of your training, and with me more or less being your motivating factor, it will be even worse."

"I don't understand."

"When we get to body shape changes, the best way to do it is for you to see me change." He looked at her blankly. "Meaning I probably wouldn't be wearing any clothes. And to monitor you, you would need to be naked as well."

He gulped, and his eyes burned gold. Her breath caught at the sight. "I think I can deal with that," he said quietly.

"You do realise, that I will probably jump you if we're both naked?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "I'm okay with that, too."

"Is there anything you wouldn't be okay with?"

His breathing was laboured by now, and his eyes had a far off quality in their still golden depths. She was beginning to think she might like gold even more than green. "Not that I can think of." He paused. "Well, I don't want to share you. Ever."

She grinned. "Hm, so no threesomes."

He growled. "No."

She fought to control her large smile, and lost. "I think I like you being all possessive."

"Good. Because it's probably only going to get worse." He stared at her for several minutes, than shook himself. His eyes returned to normal. "What's next on the morphing schedule, then?"

"Hair, again. You did colour but you also need texture and thickness." She answered promptly.

"And what do I get if I can do them properly?" He asked with a smirk.

She winked. "I'll think of something."

They cleaned up the kitchen quickly, and resumed their seats on the couch.

By the end of the night, his hair was really displaying a life of its own.

* * *

A/N: I hope this answers some questions. Harry's magic had been suppressing his ability and he had to get around this block. Then he had to teach his body to morph.

I know the romance was a bit fast, but they need to get back to the war. Remember, it has been almost two months since Tonks came and they have spent 24/7 together.

Sorry for the slow update, as I just moved (to NY!) and am starting my new job. I've been very busy, but I hope to continue this story at a reasonable pace.


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